


'Do I dare disturb the universe?'

by KrisL



Category: Doctor Who, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Absurdist fix-it fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, British English, Disco Who, Don't Examine This Too Closely, F/M, Fix-It, Knocking on the fourth wall, Spoilers for S01, Star Trek Discovery re-imagined as a Doctor Who episode, Swearing, Wibbly Wobbly Sciency Wiency
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-21 07:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13736064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisL/pseuds/KrisL
Summary: When he'd finished gasping for sweet, sweet air on the grille which served as a floor, he found the wherewithal to ask, "Who the fuck are you?"---The Doctor rescues Prime!Gabriel Lorca and short-circuits the Discovery timeline. Oh, and the Doctor is Michael Burnham.Spoilers for Star Trek Discovery Season 1. If you don’t follow Doctor Who and want to read, I’ve included some helpful links in the end notes if you’d like more context. Infinite thanks to jack, my beta and sounding board. All shoehorned references remain my fault.Complete work will be four chapters - already written but being edited.





	1. Delusions of Grandeur

**Author's Note:**

> If you’d like musical accompaniment while you read: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKyEpr9Ex-g>

 

 

Captain Gabriel Lorca was rapidly losing consciousness as the dark void of space encroached on the edges of his vision. Humans only lasted a few minutes out here. The sheer hubris of the Federation would get them all killed one day... Or more precisely for him, today.

The next thing he knew, he was on some sort of hard surface. _And_ he could breathe again. A repetitive whooshing sounded in his ears. The dark void of space punctuated only by mocking pinpricks of light was gone, replaced by 21st century interior design masquerading as something more futuristic. That wasn’t exactly what Gabriel thought of as his neurons gradually came back online, but that was the reality of where he found himself.

When he'd finished gasping for sweet, sweet air on the grille which served as a floor, he found the wherewithal to ask, "Who the fuck are you?"

"Nice to meet you too, tightly-clad space pilot. I'm The Doctor, but I sometimes go by Michael Burnham. A first and last name is usually more understandable to humans."

The person (he assumed it was a person, or humanoid, at least) who answered was wearing a bright red coat with gold embellishments, the style of which Gabriel had only seen in very old paintings he’d come across when seizing contraband cargo in one of the less savoury corners of space. (The archaic figures of speech didn’t really work in space, did they? ‘Corners’!)

The coat should have looked gaudy but on ‘Michael’ it looked surprisingly authoritative, and it inexplicably made Gabriel want to place all his trust in her, though of course he couldn’t show it. Partly because he was a contrarian bastard.

"Michael? That's a male name, isn't it?"

"Oh you'll find that gender matters very little when you're a timelord."

"A timewhat? Oh fuck this, just get me out of here - I couldn't care less what you are."

“Hang out in the 23rd century, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Now I’m piloting a glorified rescue ship for a soon-to-be disgraced Starfleet Captain.” Michael’s lips were a thin line, but her tone held a smidgen of humour.

“So you know who I am, then?” he asked, eyebrows raised. His voice was still gravelly from the involuntary space excursion, and his Southern drawl was like honey.

“I know that lots of planets have a South, and that until very recently you were Captain Gabriel Lorca of the USS Buran,” Michael stated.

“Hang on, _‘until very recently’_? I was just on it!”

“I’m sorry, Gabriel, the USS Buran just switched places with its alternate universe counterpart.”

Gabriel was staring at Michael, frowning. It was a lot to take in.

She continued, “And I’m very sorry, because the disappearance of the Buran is a fixed point in time, I can’t undo it. If my extrapolations are correct, it’s probably being destroyed right about now in the alternate universe. The TARDIS can _theoretically_ go anywhere in time and space if it’s not being stubborn, but my _extensive_ experience tells me it’s a very bad idea to mess with alternate universes.”

Gabriel hadn’t stood up from the floor of the TARDIS control room, but if he had, he’d probably be floored by this tsunami of words he had never thought he would have occasion to hear. Humans could boldly go spread themselves among the stars and be exploring the furthest reaches of the known universe, but they never really lost their ability to be surprised.

His mind latched onto something Michael had said earlier. _Disgraced_. Falling back on the unspoken but deeply ingrained attitudes he’d picked up at the Academy, he sputtered, “Where I’m from, a Captain goes down with his ship. Put me back on it!”

Michael was fiddling with an impressively chaotic array of controls in the middle of the room. She glanced at him, still on the floor but in a slightly more dignified position, and said, not unkindly, “Sorry, Gabriel, not today. Apparently, the universe has use for you yet.”

“What _use_ is a Captain without his ship in a war with the Klingons?” He was aiming for outraged but some of the adrenaline had left him and he only sounded weary.

Michael didn’t miss a beat as she replied, “When alternate universes exist, rather a lot of use, it turns out. I usually make it up as I go along, but this time, someone handed me a note with detailed instructions on who you are and where you’d be.”

He gingerly tested the mobility of his limbs and stood up with the help of an edge of the console. His helmsman on the Buran would have a field day with this smörgåsbord of controls- _oh_ _fuck_.

“You look rather shaken up, Gabriel. I’ll just go make some tea for you, shall I?” Michael asked as she tossed him a reflective foil blanket. She disappeared into an adjoining room.

Gabriel wrapped the blanket around himself. It crinkled and was not the least bit cozy, but after a few minutes he felt warmth return to his fingers and toes.

Michael returned. Their fingers brushed as she handed him an industrial-sized thermos. “Sugar is in one of the wall panels somewhere,” she said absentmindedly.

She left him to it, going to a blackboard near the far wall to scribble indecipherable symbols on it and mutter to herself.

Just when he’d slurped enough hot tea to feel a normal human temperature again, she turned around with an incandescent smile, which lit up her eyes and made Gabriel’s heart give a lurch. Seemingly apropos of nothing, she said, “Alright, want to get your captaincy back? We’re just going to go on a short trip in time and space. Cross your fingers that we land exactly where we need to be.” Her hand hovered over one of the switches.

“Aren’t we going a bit fast, here? I’d really like some time to process all this. We don’t have to compress everything into an hour-long episode, you know.”

She paused, and looked at Gabriel, considering. “You’re right. I can take the time to bring you up to speed. A few days off would do me some good too. We’ll go when you’re ready.” She smiled, and again Gabriel wasn’t sure if he was feeling the effects of that smile or if it was the aftershocks of nearly dying.

A hot meal and some first aid later, Michael finally began explaining the plan to Gabriel. It wasn’t very clear at first what was going to happen.

She said, “Gabriel, I want you to think of all the worst aspects of your personality and imagine they’re magnified several times over. Then think about how you’re going to talk that version of yourself out of the Captain’s chair. And if you can think about how to take him out in a fight, that’d be useful too. But we’re aiming to be completely above board and family-friendly here, so that’s a last resort.”

“You mean there’s going to be an evil doppelgänger of me and we’re boarding a starship to get rid of him?” Gabriel asked incredulously.

“Yes, exactly right,” Michael nodded, “except we’ll be trying to send him back into his own universe. We’ll need an ion storm for that - not too easy to come by - but you don’t need to worry about ion storms yet. If we don’t manage to send him back, I have good intel that the Federation is going to have quite some trouble ahead. I want you to put your strategic genius to good use and we’ll have an element of surprise when we meet him. What you’ll get out of all this is that you’ll take your rightful place as Captain of the USS Discovery. I hope you’re a fan of poetic justice.”

Over the next few days, when Michael and Gabriel weren’t discussing and refining the plan, Gabriel wandered around Michael’s TARDIS. It was unlike any Federation ship he’d known, seemingly organised on the same architectural principles as a rabbit warren. The control room was cool chrome, as were many of the corridors, but there were some more homey looking rooms, when he could find them. He tried to wander from one edge to another of the TARDIS to have a measure of how large it was, but there was one massive problem with that attempt.

“Michael, why can’t I find a single window?”

She looked up from where she was tinkering with the innards of the console, and answered, “There aren’t any - we haven’t got as big a CGI budget as the Discovery.”

Michael had said this so nonchalantly that Gabriel’s first instinct was to nod as if that explained everything. Then, on second thought, he said, “What-”

“Gabriel, I’m in the middle of something here. I have to reverse the polarity of several components to make sure the landing will go exactly right. The TARDIS appreciates it when I care. I’ll explain it later.”

When _later_ came around, he’d found something else to be puzzled about: “I’ve been in Starfleet for a while - if you go around saving people and planets, why have I never heard of you?”

“Because I’m - for all intents and purposes - the last of my kind, and I have a predilection for hovering around 20th and 21st century Earth - for a long time I also had a thing for London. Back then, you lot were still messing about with vanity projects like leaving a car to float in space.”

Gabriel had a feeling his default mode around Michael would be feeling rather off-kilter but also hopelessly attracted.

Three days later, Gabriel supposed he was as ready as he’d ever be to take on his doppelgänger and save the universe, or maybe just the Federation. The more rational part of his mind whispered to him, _Delusions of grandeur, Gabriel_.

Michael looked a touch crestfallen when he told her he was ready, her large, expressive eyes speaking volumes. “Sick of my company already, are you?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from T. S. Eliot's ['The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' ](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/44212/the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrock)
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter 1
> 
> The TARDIS materialising: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YOfWKszcE2s ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YOfWKszcE2s)
> 
> “Tightly-clad space pilot”: Jason Isaacs’ Twitter profile
> 
> Michael Burnham’s coat: [[link]](http://ghk.h-cdn.co/assets/15/42/480x707/gallery-1444850618-sonequa-5.jpg) (from [this article](http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/beauty/fashion/g2852/sonequa-martin-green-style/?slide=5))
> 
> The Doctor’s gender: The Thirteenth Doctor will be female, played by Jodie Whittaker - at the time of writing, she’s the only female Doctor
> 
> “Lots of planets have a South” - 5 second explanation: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svi-fBXZzqI ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svi-fBXZzqI)
> 
> A version of the TARDIS console/controls: [https://doctorwhoone.deviantart.com/art/DW-2012-Tardis-Console-with-correct-info-350087669 ](https://doctorwhoone.deviantart.com/art/DW-2012-Tardis-Console-with-correct-info-350087669)
> 
> Star Trek Discovery’s budget: US$8–8.5 million per episode
> 
> The CGI on Doctor Who: Famously bad, though your mileage may vary
> 
> Car in space:  
> [http://money.cnn.com/2018/02/10/technology/future/nasa-elon-musk-spacex-tesla-roadster/index.html ](http://money.cnn.com/2018/02/10/technology/future/nasa-elon-musk-spacex-tesla-roadster/index.html)


	2. Proceed with Caution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allons-y!

 

 

Gabriel suspected he still looked pretty torn up about the Buran, because Michael gave him an empathetic look and said, “Alright, want to have a go? Probably best if I have a hand on the controls as well, but you can help me with something.”

Gabriel nodded, not at all sure what he was meant to be doing. Michael flicked a few switches, then placed Gabriel’s left hand on what looked like a gear stick. She fit her warm fingers over his, asked rhetorically, “Ready?”, then made the gear stick move in a series of directions he couldn’t hope to replicate on his own.

Idly, Gabriel wondered if letting someone touch your TARDIS’ gear stick was the timelord version of flirting - but they had more important matters to occupy them right this moment.

The room started vibrating and the whooshing sound was back. Phasing in and out felt different from being in a transporter beam, but Gabriel supposed it had the same effect, just different technology.

When the whooshing sound subsided, Michael adjusted her coat lapels and walked up a ramp towards a door in the control room. “Come along, Gabriel.”

Gabriel followed her through the door, and when he looked back, the door closed on a tiny blue box, which looked like it could only fit three or four Captain’s chairs at most, stacked. But he'd spent _three days_ in there and hadn't been able to get a measure of how vast it was!

In his astonishment he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “It’s smaller on the outside!” Michael didn’t seem to notice his comment.

They strode along what Gabriel recognised as a starship corridor. Fairly new, it looked like. Probably… a science vessel? This should have been his ship. Michael stopped as they came to a door.

Michael rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, as if to steady him. “Alright, Gabriel, we’re going in there to have a nice chat with your doppelgänger, then if he doesn’t come with us nicely, we’ll-”

Gabriel cut in, “If he’s as bad as you think he is, I have an idea what we should do with him.”

They walked onto the bridge of the USS Discovery. Someone who looked exactly like Gabriel was lounging in the Captain’s chair.

The entire bridge crew swivelled their heads to stare at the two intruders, one of whom wore their Captain’s face.

Mirror Lorca looked mildly annoyed. “Security-” he started.

Gabriel held his hands up in a placating gesture. In a voice that was exceedingly calm yet conveyed unerringly the fury in his eyes, he said, “Hold your horses. I have half a mind to pulverise your _face_ , because I’ve lost my _entire_ ship and crew to your fascist universe thanks in large part to _you_ , but for the sake of my friend, Michael, here,” he nodded in Michael’s direction, “we’re just going to have a nice chat to start with.”

A long pause greeted Gabriel’s little spiel. Then Mirror Lorca sneered, “ _Gabriel_ and  _Michael_ , storming in here? What are you, God’s army?”

Gabriel wondered, _Is_ _that_ _what I look like when I sneer? A missed career opportunity, that - I could’ve made a living being typecast as a villain._

Michael held up a card holder with what looked like a blank piece of card. “In case you were still thinking about it, there's no need to involve security, ‘ _Captain_ ’” she said, quote marks evident in her tone, “Starfleet Command sent us.”

_What?_ Gabriel mouthed at Michael. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, as if to say:  _Wait and see_.

Mirror Lorca laughed, and it was nothing like Gabriel’s laugh. He grinned wide and addressed the bridge at large, “Crew, when have you _ever_ seen me unquestioningly obey orders from above? I _write_ my own destiny, and I am fighting a war here!”

There was a hush as he said this, as if the bridge crew were re-evaluating this man they’d been calling ‘Captain’ since the Discovery's maiden voyage.

Gabriel was getting seriously ticked off at this him-that-was-not-him. He asserted, “It’s _my_ war, actually. You probably couldn’t care less about the Klingons taking over the Federation.”

Fine, since Mirror Lorca wasn’t going to come quietly, he’d change tack. Gabriel glanced at Michael, seeking encouragement. She nodded at him, steely-eyed.

This had better work - Gabriel had no desire to add to his knowledge of brig interiors. Here goes nothing. Gabriel raised his voice as he ordered, “Computer, voice print authorisation - Gabriel Lorca. Analyse my quantum signature as well as the quantum signature of the person in the Captain’s chair.”

Seconds passed like treacle, during which Gabriel wondered if being left floating in space would be preferable to what might await him.

Then the stoic, stilted tones of the computer greeted them, “Quantum signature analysis completed. Captain, your quantum signature matches background readings. The quantum signature of the subject in the Captain’s chair does not match with our universe. Conclusion: proceed with caution.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious: Is there anything in particular you enjoyed? What worked and what didn't? Feedback welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on [Tumblr](http://funnelferrybutterbar.tumblr.com/).


End file.
